Hallways
by laraesthetic
Summary: Draco and Hermione never found hallways to be so interesting, up until now. Dramione one-shots, all featuring a hallway in one way or another.
1. Snake versus Badger

Welcome! This is my newest fanfiction. I have written fanfiction since I was eleven, for Ever After High, Spiderman (the movies), Miraculous Butterfly, and a few others. My newest phase? Harry Potter (revisited, of course. Not the first time I'm into it.) Hallways is a Dramione fanfiction, based in their fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts. It's more of a story where there are one shots that are loosely tied together chronologically, but not plot-wise. _Basically, a hallway is featured in every one of the one shots._ Sometimes the hallway won't play as big of a role as in other one shots, but variety is fun. Well, here it goes. Welp. Here's to hoping this turns out in a way that I'm proud of my writing.

(ooc ernie macmillan)

a quick tw: drunken attacks, teenage drinking, r*pe

* * *

Oh, boy. Not again, not again would Hermione do this to herself. She would not be alone at a party, especially a welcoming party into the new school year. Hermione had been to her fair share of parties at Hogwarts, no biggie. The seemingly casual parties that she enjoyed were a thing of the past, however; apparently, fifth year was the year that everyone wanted to grow up and change over the summer. It was truly the summer where puberty started to make changes in the boys and girls. The rowdy fifteen and sixteen year olds swapped pumpkin juice for diluted dragon barrel brandy. For the adventurers of the lot, they downed shots of pure firewhiskey that sent scorching inferno down their throats. No one really knew where it came from, seeing as floo networks were down in common rooms for that specific reason, but Hermione assumed a older brother or sister from seventh year brought it in for their younger sibling.

"What an example they're setting," she mumbled to herself about her most recent thoughts, lifting a red cup filled with butterbeer to her parted lips. A faint ginger sensation filled her mouth. Butterbeer was a familiar taste on the tongue, it being one of her favorite drinks to order when the trio went out to Hogsmeade. Third year was quite the year for her. Any time she had the opportunity, she'd go out of the castle to get a intake of a different scenery. Hermione loved Hogwarts and all, but to stay there all the time would be nearly impossible. Two years later and she still loved her freedom to head over to Hogsmeade and she preferred butterbeer to anything else.

Hermione slumped further into upholstered armchair that screamed Hufflepuff pride. It was positioned in the corner and she gripped the arm of the chair lightly, her fingertips grazing the end. This year's welcome party was being hosted at the Hufflepuff's common room. The dandelion yellow constrasted with the dark pigments, it was nearly an eyesore for Hermione, who was used to the brave crimson and gold of Gryffindor.

Being in the common room made her wonder many things. It was often heard as the most secure of the four houses, since you needed to be able to memorize a pattern instead of whispering a password. How it was only sectioned off for fifth years was beyond her wits, wouldn't someone want to get in or out? How do the Hufflepuff students of other years react to this? There had been a large crowd of people two years ago in the Gryffindor common room, but she wouldn't have ever wanted to join that "mosh pit" that was a party. Thirteen year old Hermione was far too innocent and upon seeing that, she wrote on a piece of paper, a promise to herself of some sorts, she'd stay out of whatever _that_ was. Thirteen year old Hermione must have been disappointed seeing her present self was in the midst of an alcoholic get together, but relieved she wasn't actually moshing.

The room reeked of sweat and alcohol, clearly not the best combination of smells for any single person. Hermione was fed up with all of this. How did people consider this...fun? She knew from muggle television and film that they seemed to party harder than whatever she was looking at currently. She found that really hard to believe. Many of the teenagers sloshed around each other, limbs groping other limbs, and the contents of their cups flew in the air and landed on the ground. Laughs and hollers hurled to opposite walls, making it more louder than it so needed to be. Hermione was getting a horrible headache and she decided she would turn in early, making it so she could get up early to finish homework that was due much later in the month.

Hermione got on her feet and set the red cup of butterbeer on the end table beside her. She nearly made it to the stairs leading to the foyer of the basement when someone's fingers made it to the sleeve of her sweater, tugging, nearly pulling strings out of her favorite sweater. She knew she shouldn't have worn this sweater to this party. Her head whipped to find the suspect, scanning behind her as the figure tip toed around her to get in front.

"What are you doing Hermione? Stay!" Ernie Macmillan's voice slurred together into hardly separable words. He was a Hufflepuff, but he wasn't the kindest of people, nor the most private either. He was Hannah Abbott's boyfriend for a total of ten days and Hannah was done with him, after he had told everyone in his house and Ravenclaw that they started dating because she wanted him. It was completely the opposite of the truth and that bothered Hermione hearing that last year. His arm slung around her back, laughing for no apparent reason. In the hand that didn't grip a shoulder, a cup displayed pride in being nearly finished. "C'mon, I'm almost done with this cup of brandy, we can get another drink together. You need to stay!" Pink splotches decorated his cheeks and strands of ashen hair stuck in whichever way it pleased to. He downed his remainder of his drink and shoved the empty cup into the hand of a random student, who Hermione recognized as Michael Corner. It didn't damper Michael's mood as much as she thought it did, because Michael kept on partying along with Seamus and Terry.

Hermione peeled herself from Ernie's clutch and turned to face him, inching away a little more. "No, I think I'll be going now, Ernie. But thank you for the offer. You Hufflepuffs throw an amazing party." She politely remarked their party-throwing skills, if there were such a skill for that. She just wanted to leave, read a book on her day back and settle back into her dormitory. She shouldn't even have stepped foot into the Hufflepuff common room. Had she known this would have happened, her present life would be a different story.

Ernie's hand traveled to Hermione's wrist, knuckles turning white and nails digging into her thin skin. She squirmed under his touch and winced as he tightened his grip further. His clear set of eyes turned dark with lust and anger towards Hermione. She felt as though he would envelope her with his body; he was at the advantage, he was at least ten centimeters above her head. "Stay." Ernie growled, clamping his set of teeth into one. Her heartbeat accelerated to an erratic pace and beads of sweat appeared on her face that was even more pale than usual.

Somehow, this was all in everyone's peripheral vision but no one batted an eyelash to their direction. It was as if they _wanted_ Hermione to be attacked or hurt. "No," Hermione's faint whisper trailed into the air and was taken away to a far off place. The sly badger backed her into the secluded hallway that separated the common room from the dormitories. You'd think that all Hufflepuffs are fair and they're all nice, but clearly, Ernie should have been sorted into Slytherin based on his behavior now.

"I've got you now, princess, isn't that what everyone calls you, the Gryffindor princess?" Ernie's words stuck sharp, mocking daggers into her heart. What once was an endearing nickname by her best friends became a haunted set of words that deemed her sexual prey across the four houses. Each word he said, he got closer to her until eventually the boy's breath threatened Hermione right in the face. His fingers found their way to her hands, pinning his palms deep into hers, making sure she couldn't lift the weight of his force away from the wall.

Ernie's ugly, chapped lips got more in her personal space, whispering in her ear, "I've got you, princess, you're _mine_." She dodged his attempts at kisses; only grazes of the lips landed on her snowed cheeks. A cat got her tongue; her heart and mind was going a million kilometers per hour, but when she opened her mouth slightly, there was nothing that could come out and she felt like there was nothing she could do. The poor girl thrashed and resisted as much as she could but she couldn't do much to guard herself when she felt so frozen in time.

"I'm pretty sure she said she wasn't interested." She stiffened even more than she had previously. Hermione could recognize the supercilious and vexatious voice from nearly anywhere. Even if it were just a faint hint of it peeping out of nowhere, but his voice could carry over for years and years to come. There couldn't have been a way that she'd forget this voice.

"Yeah, Malfoy?" Ernie released one of his hands to face his shoulders toward infamous Draco, the Slytherin Prince. "What'cha gonna do about it? Save her?" Ernie laughed haughtily, his laugh forming in the deep bellows of throat. It seemed as though Ernie performed Petrificus Totalus on her, as Hermione's courage was tucked neatly into a minuscule part of her brain, struck and surrounded by fear and tragedy.

"Well, maybe I will," He muttered and took a swing straight at Ernie's jaw, who reacted quite immediately. The hufflepuff hobbled over in pain, nursing his jaw as he let go of Hermione's wrists. "Come on!" Draco hissed at the stunned girl. She still couldn't move even after Draco saved her; that was yet another shocking thing that had happened to her that night.

Draco carefully took her hand and ran off with her. He knew that people, sometimes women more than men, were sensitive to the touch after being attacked. To be frank, he wouldn't want to be touched, more so grabbed and pulled by someone after being attacked. For hell's sake, Hermione could have gotten raped tonight. He was thankful that he was nearby and could hear Hermione's pretentious voice slipping away from the crowd.

Hermione couldn't cry. No tears, no frustrations, nothing was expelled from her body except the skin that rebounded upwards from Ernie digging his nails. Draco led her quickly outside the common room, leaving the sounds and sights of a horrible party that would change both of them forever. After that, he advanced onto the hallway of the Gryffindor tower, which was at least a ten minute walk. Not a breath was wasted between each of them and they just kept on going until they reached there.

"Are...are you okay?" It somewhat pained him to see the usually put-together Gryffindor in such disarray. She was always calm, cool, collected, at least in front of everyone else. Every book accounted for, every assignment done, every word read, and most important, everything in its place and everything on time. This wasn't scheduled, this wasn't arranged in advance, this wasn't how she planned to spend her night.

She became so overcome with shock that she went rigid. It took Hermione more than a few moments to recover and be able to speak. Her first words were of utter confusion and it showed she was at a lost for any sensible string of phrases. "I-I don't know."

Malfoy instinctively tried to grab her in his embrace, without thinking of the consequences. She immediately jumped away from his grasp, her hands clutching her opposite shoulders. "I'm sorry, D-Draco." She had to forcefully pull his first name out of her mouth; it pained her to say it because to her, he'd always been Malfoy, the blond-haired git. In this occasion, he was Draco, the teenager who saved her from being attacked. "Thank you," she stammered out, still in fright but she was grateful for his kindness. She looked out to him, searching for his eyes, trying to hold his gaze, but he stared at the ground. "I don't know how to repay you."

Had it been a less serious situation, he would say, "You know what you can do? Don't mention it, Granger." Now, he was a changed boy—still a boy, but not yet a man—and he exchanged his words for that for, "You're welcome." Malfoy, of all people, least understood the meaning of "thank you" and "you're welcome." However, in this situation, the world seemed to make sense for once. He was here for a reason, as was she, and that reason was to save each other. He looked back up, matching his eyes to hers. "Suppose I should take you to your room now? Er—" He felt embarrassed saying that, looking back down almost as soon as he finished the sentence. He hoped she wouldn't get the wrong idea, that he only did this to drag her to bed like Ernie might have done. "Maybe Potter or Weasley shall get you? Or Weasley's sister, or someone—"

"I'm capable of getting inside on my own." Hermione glanced behind her shoulder to her way back inside, the Fat Lady, who shuffled quickly to get back into place, as if she hadn't been listening to their conversation the whole time. "Thank you, Draco." This time, it didn't hurt her to say his name; in fact, it flowed delicately out of her mouth as if it was meant to be this way. It was in the stars that they'd cross paths tonight, Hermione was sure of it. It would be a while until she recovered, but she knew Draco would be an essential role in her convalescence.

A secret smile formed on Draco's face as he turned on his heel without a word, walking slowly down the hallway toward the staircase leading down to the dungeon. Hermione shared a similar smile as she reiterated the password to the painting. The Fat Lady swooned in delight, crowing drunkenly, "Hermione, you have quite the boy there!"


	2. Simple Things

_Hello! If you like this one-shot, please favorite and leave a review! I would love some friendly criticism if possible. Thank you so much! xo_

One thing Hermione absolutely hated was crowded hallways. It was inevitable that there would be crowded hallways in Hogwarts. As wide as the hallways could get, the density of the students packed into the corridor was greater than the space. Flurries of first year students pushed their way through with all their might, knocking over several people to get to their Astronomy or Transfiguration classes "on time," even though classes would start in five minutes. Poor first years didn't know that it was okay to leisurely, but to be fair, it took Hermione to her third year to feel okay with being exactly on time or slightly late. Robes whipped the open arms and legs and arms defended their person from flying books being shot from wall to wall.

It was difficult enough to work your way through, but it was a whole different story to try to cross to the other side. Usually, students naturally forming two sections, one section of students shuffling forward and the other section shuffling in the opposite direction. It was best for the students, as they found it the best way to function in the corridor. It was the worst if you needed to change sides and Hermione needed to do that a few times a while. It was one of the things she ended up dreading about Hogwarts. Don't get her wrong, she lived and breathed Hogwarts love and pride but their hallways were the most ridiculous of the whole wizarding world.

As Hermione worked to transition from one class to another, she had nearly forgotten that she had to cross the abyss. She needed to enter her Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Snape, who didn't look a day over one hundred with his slightly graying strands of hair and the skin on his fingers becoming like little prunes in the early morning sun.

Her bloodshot eyes were all the evidence needed to show she wasn't thinking so straight. The assignment was to write an essay, five feet worth of parchment, on the effects of certain spells in short term and long term. To be frank, five feet was two feet too many. It would have been easier to write three, as she initially thought. However, Parvati Patil reminded her that it was supposed to be five feet instead of three. At first, she thought it was a prank, but Parvati wasn't the joking type. It was one of the only times she forgot the specifics of assignments like this. Hermione accepted the correction like a good student, but that also meant she had to stay up for another three hours. She restarted the last paragraph and kept going from there.

Of course, three hours lost meant she had to make it up somehow. Hermione only got two hours of sleep compared to five hours that she planned on having. She was organized to a fault and she needed everything just so; if she didn't have everything in the right order or place, her whole day would be messed up. That's how Hermione felt about the day so far.

All of a sudden, her leg got caught in the tide of people, causing her whole weight to collapse to the floor. But before she had the chance to, something—wait, more like _someone_ saved her from falling to the ground. The seas of students kept going, just around them, creating a tight gap. Hermione's arms tangled with the person's hands and she was almost afraid to look up.

She quickly got to her feet, feeling very red in the face for being in the grasp of the stranger for a few seconds. Hermione glanced at the shoes of the person. They were awfully clean and so shiny she could see her reflection in the dark dress shoes if she bent down close to them. These could only match one person and it was—

"Bloody hell, Granger, would you stop gawking at the floor, we've got class very soon." The ferret was the one who saved her. Of course it was, who else would it be? His voice was halfway in between hoarse and gravelly, but low and rough nonetheless. She presumed he was growing into the man he was to become, the mudblood hater path that his father chose for him. But if he saved her from falling, then he couldn't be that bad, right? No, no, she was reading far too into it. He responded with a low voice, sure, but it still was brisk with a nippy tone to it.

"Er, sorry, Malfoy. I didn't mean to trip." Hermione finally uttered out coherent words. Her voice was softer than a mouse on Christmas Eve and her fingers fiddled with the hems of her robes. She was nervous—no she was more afraid of learning the reason why he hadn't let her fall to the ground. Maybe it was because of morals, but everyone knew Malfoy having morals meant the end of the world was near. "Erm, thank you."

"Please, don't mention it." Malfoy's hands raised in surrender, genuinely meaning not to tell anyone that the Slytherin was growing mushy for a certain lion. He watched as she sweeper away minuscule dirt granules off her robes, slightly gaping as she passed her somewhat large chest. He hunched over and coughed, concealing his flushed complexion, darting his eyes anywhere except her. He straightened, standing erect again, and cleared his throat, returning back to the chilly boy who just so happened to have a pretty girl fall into his arms. It wasn't every day that this sort of cliché occurred to him.

"Sure." Hermione curtly nodded as a response to his request, though it sounded like a demand more than anything. She hoisted her messenger bag, something she brought from the muggle world this past summer break, further up on her shoulder and turned to him. The hallway thinned to only a few people passing by them, minding their own business as long as Hermione and Draco minded their business. Hermione blurred all of a sudden, "We have the same class, do you want to walk together?" Sure, it was a rash decision—she didn't really do that type of thing, and she might as well have asked the guy out on a date, she would be the same amount of embarrassed either way—but if they were going the same way, they should just head there together.

"How come?" Draco responded very coldly, as if icicles hung from his exposed body parts. Hermione had rather wished icicles hung from the ceiling and hit his head. God, he wished he hadn't done that, not even the muggleborn deserved to be spoken to that way.

"Well, we have the same class together, don't we?" If Malfoy was going to act cold, then so was Hermione! Someone else would have been at a loss for words, getting lost in his interesting—no, stupid silver eyes. But not Hermione, she wouldn't fall for his cunning games.

"Well. I suppose we should then." Draco lowered his tone to a soft mezzo piano. He didn't want it to seem as though he were waiting, so the teenager turned on his heel and started to head off to the classroom without her. Nothing was more satisfying to Draco than picking up the gasp and the huff Granger omitted.

Hermione muttered indecipherable words under her breath as the two now made the miserable trek to the pink classroom side by side. Hermione preferred that they walk together than be by their lonesomes, though she began to ponder how their peers would view the situation. The temerity of the situation was far too high for her to bother, so she just went with it. It was a simple thing anyway. What would it matter to her?

They entered the classroom together and instantly, the rowdy class turned ever so silent as a church mouse. Shocked eyes stared blankly into the two students, burning holes into their now barren souls, especially Ron and Harry. Ron and Harry seemed the most concerned out of everyone, Ron nearly jumping out of his seat to slug one at Malfoy, and Harry tightening an iron grip on his best friend's arms.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, how delightful for you to join us finally!" Professor Umbridge's lips drew back to reveal her sickening smile, glancing back at the clock. It was already past the time they were supposed to arrive and Hermione silently cursed herself for the run-in with Malfoy. "Please see me after classes end for the day, the both of you, at the same time." Her tone never changed within the sentences which was perturbing to one of the two students who scrambled to get into her seat. The other one drawled and let the time stretch, he didn't care about Umbridge's threats, or even further, anyone else's threats. He let people think what they thought about the situation, even if it wasn't true.

At the end of the day, after all the classes were dismissed and it was time for students to work on homework or socialize with friends, two students plodded to Professor Umbridge's office with heavy feet but not heavy hearts. Hermione, stubborn as a bull, was ready to fight for her cause. Draco, on the other hand, walked slow because he was just lazy and just woke up from a nap nearly five minutes before he started walking up and around the castle.

Neither of them dared to even walk into the classroom, let alone her office, without the other. They were polar opposites, but that didn't mean they were stupid enough to come in blindly and independently. No words were exchanged and when they miraculously made it to the classroom, locking eye to eye at the same time, they sealed their fates inherently with one another.

"How wonderful for you two to join me! Tea?" Umbridge promptly recited as the wooden door swung in to reveal the two troublemakers. It was pink in her office, too pink. Hermione thought that she saw too much pink once in her cousin's bedroom but their slightly stout professor was a complete eyesore and her cousin's bedroom seemed drab compared to this. The professor motioned for the students to take a seat and they did hesistantly, as the teapot magically poured tea into two cups even though they gave no consent to having tea. Afterwards, the teapot poured enough tea for Umbridge in another cup. Nonetheless, when the teapot finished pouring the exact amounts into each porcelain cup, Draco delicately took hold of one of the handles and its matching saucer.

After pure silence, Hermione tapped her foot a few times in boredom, praying for this to be over and for Umbridge to give their punishment. "Do you know why you are here?" Professor Umbridge inquired, each word a staccato note on a musical staff. Hermione now wished for quietness, cursing the fact that she wanted something to happen.

"We were late to class." Draco provided, taking an initial sip of tea from the cup. Draco's face contorted sourly and he forced the rest of the liquid down his throat despite his discomfort. This was not the tea leaves that the students used for their morning cups of tea. "What kind of tea is this, Professor?" Yes, Draco was on Umbridge's side—being a Slytherin and wanting to be on the good side of the lady, knowing her infamous reputation in the Ministry—but that didn't stop him for wondering what tea brand she used.

"Oh, nothing, dear." The face she had was of feigned concern. "Don't tell me you dislike it," she pouted, tapping her desk once. "I received it from my mother." Something told Hermione that whatever Umbridge was saying was only half of the truth, so she didn't bother tasting the tea. Little did she know that she'd have the upper hand in this debacle.

"Professor," Hermione started off, trying to make her words exact and edged. "Why aren't you drinking your tea?" She made an offer to this by holding up the teacup and saucer, but never drinking out of it, doing this all as Umbridge began to speak.

"Why, I must turn the question onto you, Ms. Granger! Are you offending me by not doing so?" Umbridge surely had a way of words to imprison one in a corner; she felt like she was in a deathly grasp of a Devil's Snare.

"I'm not thirsty." Hermione grew impatient with the woman, putting down the suspicious cup of tea. She assumed the professor put Veritaserum in it; the act of putting the truth serum was not unlikely for the woman. She did it multiple times already to other students who have been called into her office after school hours. "Professor, please tell us our punishment already, I have exams to study for." She knew that although she was speeding up the process, she was definitely going to be on Umbridge's bad side at the end of this. It wasn't like she cared in the first place, it was Umbridge they were speaking about.

"If you insist." The pink lady tsked at the courageous female in front of her; most students were afraid to stand up to her out of all the professors, after seeing Harry after his own meeting with her, deeply scarred and his skin translucent after writing with a blood quill. "I'd like for you to serve detention every day for the next month, starting after classes to supper time. That is roughly three hours, give or take."

Hermione knew better than to give into Umbridge's satisfaction and see a rotten grin on the wrinkled face, so she nodded without a word. She was rather relieved that she didn't have to face the same punishment as her best friend had. It was a triumph to have a lesser punishment. Draco nodded as well, though shock overcame him for a few seconds. He was trying to avoid speaking, for he thought something completely wrong and troubling would spill out of his mouth. "What may we do during these detentions?" Hermione asked in Draco's lack of speaking.

"Homework, that is all. You may not speak, nor giggle, nor mumble." Umbridge's words whipped around, but there was no solid ground in them. They didn't burn or freeze, the words were more like soft taps on the arm to make someone stop with no avail of course. "I won't be supervising the whole time as you might have guessed, but I will be in my office the whole time. They start on Monday." Her voice was solemn for once, then reverted back to perky too soon. "Now shoo, children! I must do my own work." She waved her arms about and the cats in the dishes on her wall meowed loudly in a pitchy chorus to get them out of her office.

In a hurried step, the two of them got out because it wasn't like either of them wanted to stay there anyway. "Bloody hell, Granger, didn't think you had the guts."

"I'm a Gryffindor for God's sake," she muttered, stalking away from the boy. Oh, how just like a boy. Of all the years that he's known her, even if he wasn't a friend, he should have known she had the guts to do everything, especially punch him square in the nose.

"See you tomorrow, Granger?" He called after her.

"See you." She didn't waste a second on turning back to look at him. She wasn't a romance novelist. She wasn't a girl in love. She wasn't an optimist. She was a simple girl with a month of detention.


End file.
